


More Than You Know

by mannana



Series: Team Delusional Series [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied Bethyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannana/pseuds/mannana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short what if one shot. Spoilers for 5x08 sort of. What if she survived? What would she remember? What would Daryl tell her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than You Know

"You used to sing for everyone, at the prison, ‘round the fire.” Daryl spoke quietly so nobody else could hear. “Ya got a nice voice." He added quickly and felt his neck turn hot.

 

Beth smiled. It wasn’t a full Beth smile, not like the ones he remembered. But he didn’t much mind because she was here. Alive. And for some damn reason she had sought him out. Like she remembered or something…

 

“Don’t know if I know any songs anymore.” She shrugged.

 

“They’ll come back.” He replied confidently, but too quickly so he bit at his thumb, like he always did when he got nervous. He poked his knife at the table, distracting himself from the big blue eyes that weren’t looking away.

 

They sat in silence for a long time. And it didn’t seem to bother her at all. It was driving him insane.

 

When she finally spoke she asked him to tell her about herself.

 

“Why do I feel like I know you better than the rest of these people?” She had added.

 

He shrugged and mumbled an “I don’t know.”

 

"I taught ya how to hunt, shoot my bow.” He offered instead. “You were getting pretty good at trackin’”

 

He picked at the splinters he created on the table, flicking them to the floor, and then dug his knife back into the wood.

 

"You don't care for moonshine much and you're a bit of a pyro" He scoffed a bit at the memory and slowly looked up to meet her eyes.

 

She held his gaze for a long while. It instantly reminded him of the funeral home. The way the candle light had reflected in her eyes, the heaviness in the air, the “oh” that escaped her lips.

 

He turned away again. He couldn’t relive that anymore. It was done. She held no memories of their time together. She’d barely even recognized her sister.

 

 

"You talk in your sleep. Mumble a lot." He whispered and felt his heart begin to thump a little quicker.

 

“How do you know that?” She said playfully, but he could hear her worry.

 

“Slept together,” He said before he could think better of it. And watched her eyes widen in shock.

 

“After the prison, after your da...,” He stuttered. “We got out together. Shit was a mess. Slept on the ground most nights. Didn’t like you bein too far away, so most of the time you just sleep next to me while I was on watch.”

 

“Oh.” She mouthed and he swore he seen disappointment in her eyes.

 

Again, silence. 

 

“What else do you remember?” She spoke so quietly now, so nervously.

 

"Peanut butter and jelly are your favorite nowadays. And pigs feet, you love pigs feet." He lied and smiled. Then almost laughed because of the face she made.

 

“No way pigs feet are my favorite.” She grimaced.

 

“Nah, you hated ‘em. Almost got you to eat one one night though.” He teased.

 

“I think I remember that.” She breathed. “I mean, I don’t, but it sounds familiar.”

 

His face fell as he watched her scramble for memories, he wished he could tell her the real things he remembered. Like the way her face lit up at dawn when the sun came up, the way her lips curled at the corners when she smiled, that’s how he knew it was a real smile. Or how she’d saved his ass in so many ways.

 

He was staring at her, thinking of all those moments, just lost in thought. So when she cleared her throat it startled him.

 

“Sorry,” He grumbled and began picking at the table again.

 

“Did we find the others together?”

 

“No. You got taken before we could find them.” He didn’t mean to growl, but he didn’t think he could tell her it was his fault all this had happened. Couldn’t confess he was to blame for her being shot, buried, killed.

 

He cringed.

 

"Strongest girl I know, you are." He felt his eyes welling up then, and began to stand up. He had to get away from her. At least for a little bit.

 

He knew he wouldn't go too far. Never again would he go very far without her. Even if she didn’t remember, he did.

 

“You always do that?” She asked before he reached the door.

 

“Do what?” He sighed without turning to her.

 

“Run away.”

 

He chuckled to himself.

 

"You got a way to see through bullshit, too. Called me out on it plenty." He leaned on the door frame, still not turning to her.

 

 

“You like the color yellow, it makes your eyes stand out. Always was smilin’ or talkin’. Used to drive me nuts.” He cleared his throat. “Miss it more than anything, Beth.” He confessed.

 

“Ya told me once I’d miss ya when you were gone.” He turned and met her eyes. “Missed ya more than you’ll ever know.” He whispered before escaping out the door.

 

 


End file.
